


Fleeting Moments Like Us

by iamee



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Angst, Confrontation, Dark, First Kiss, Kink Meme, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamee/pseuds/iamee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he confronts Valjean in the hospital, Javert reacts a little differently than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleeting Moments Like Us

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt can be found here: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11667.html?thread=1704595#t1704595

**Fleeting Moments Like Us**

 

He's tired already. Tired of feeling guilty, tired of worrying, tired of fighting. It feels like he's spent the greater part of his life doing exactly this, over and over again, in various shapes and forms. Like an endless circle of regrets and the loss of countless years.  
And, despite his claim that he could easily overpower the other man, Valjean begins to doubt himself. He cannot even convince Javert that he has changed, that he's not the man he used to be, for what's it worth, so why should he be able to convince him that he is not going to lose this fight?

Not that it ever made a lot of sense to reason with Javert about things that appear to be set in stone for the man. He is stubborn in a way that makes him perfectly suitable for his job but for a life...? Who knows how things could have turned out if they ever had _talked_ to each other, without lies bitten away between teeth.  
Valjean almost wants to laugh. At the tragedy of human failure, at the irritating fate that lets their paths cross time after time, at the thought that they maybe could have been something other than enemies, in another life, he doesn't know.

He's making himself ready to flee, running out of options once more. It was too good to last, these past few years, and he knew it, always knew what was coming, knows it now that he is disarmed, steel pointing at his chest and the beating heart underneath. He may have become a man on the run, he may be tired, so tired, but he's not going to lay down and die just yet.

"I am from the gutter too," Javert spits out, having already drowned out Valjean's attempts to defend his actions with every word, every blow of his blade.

His eyes are gleaming somewhat feverish and for a split second Valjean can see both of them from the outside, two figures frozen in time and forever in battle over something so trivial in its roots and yet so destructive to both of them. There was never another way for them to come together, and he wonders briefly how often they will have to do this all over again. And whose life it will cost in the end.

Then his thoughts are disrupted by a loud noise and he sees Javert's blade on the floor, a shimmering dance, once, twice, before it lies still. And his own body, stiff with tension, with the will to run again, far away, is backed up against the wall. The impact is hard, unexpected and nearly knocks all the remaining air out of his lungs. 

For a moment, Javert is searching for his eyes and Valjean doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to _think_ before Javert moves even closer, crushing their lips together. 

The room is dark and quiet now, the uproar of their fight a ghost memory in the night air. Valjean can feel the wall against his spine, almost feel the bruises that will form once morning comes. And he feels Javert pressing up against him, chest to chest, like closing all the space between them would mean salvation, like his hand in Valjean's neck could put their minds at rest.

His mouth is hot, his lips parted now, their breath mingling whenever there is a moment to gasp for air. Valjean thinks it's like their both drowning. Clasping onto each other, stealing and giving back breath after breath, in and out. If this is the only other way they can come together, he doesn't know what to believe anymore. He wants to have faith that God isn't cruel like that, making them desperate shadows in the night, having to choose between destroying their bodies or their souls before they can even let go of each other.

"Men like us can never change." Javert whispers, somewhere close to his ear, has maybe whispered it all along, inaudible over the beating of their hearts and their grasping hands.

He would like to disagree, if only to prove to himself that he has become a better person, but he knows deep down what Javert means, knows the inescapable truth behind his words. The paths of their lives are intertwined in a way they cannot fully understand and if they're damned to forever drown together, so be it. 

_We can never change._

There is a certain reassurance in that thought, in the way their lips search each other in the dark, like they will come upon each other in every darkness until they'll finally find peace.


End file.
